


We Are

by sandean_cas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Genie/Djinn, Angry Chuck Shurley, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Castiel Drives the Impala (Supernatural), Castiel Has Feelings for Dean Winchester, Castiel Has PTSD (Supernatural), Castiel Has Secrets (Supernatural), Castiel Learns to be Human (Supernatural), Castiel Whump (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester Fight, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel is Not Okay (Supernatural), Castiel is Not a Virgin (Supernatural), Castiel is So Done with Dean Winchester, Castiel's Nickname is Cass (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Chuck Shurley is God, Dean Winchester Loves Pie, Dean Winchester Loves The Impala, Dean Winchester Says the Wrong Thing, Dean Winchester Talks About Feelings, Dean Winchester Teaches Castiel About Sex, Dean Winchester as the Impala, Dean Winchester is Not Amused, Dean Winchester is Not Heterosexual, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Dean-cave | Fortress of Dean-a-tude (Supernatural), Djinn Dean Winchester, Djinni & Genies, Djinnverse (Supernatural), Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Episode: s11e04 Baby, Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Fluff, Frottage, Heavy Angst, Heavy Petting, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hunter Castiel (Supernatural), Hunter Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Manipulative Dean Winchester, Mind Manipulation, Miscommunication, Nearly Human Castiel (Supernatural), Newly Human Castiel (Supernatural), Post-Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romantic Fluff, Sam Winchester's Bitchface, Season/Series 15, Shapeshifter Dean Winchester, Siren Dean Winchester, Sirens, Smut, The Impala (Supernatural), This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-01-27 08:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21388960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandean_cas/pseuds/sandean_cas
Summary: The bunker door slams behind him and he finally lets his walls drop. Three sobs burst from his chest in quick succession. That is all he allows himself. Anything else would be excessive.“We are.” He had said to Dean. And at the time he’d believed it… because he couldn’t bear not to.Dean had realised though; they weren’t real.He stops.Soft chirping comes from a nearby bush.  Inside a small nest is a lone dove, it’s wing is broken. Castiel can relate. He strokes the bird’s head tenderly and it nuzzles at him with its beak. “You’ll be okay.” He assures, taking a moment to appreciate the plushness of its feathers. He releases a small trickle of grace, instantly mending the bird’s wing. It chirps again, happily and burrows into his hand in thanks.There was once a time when the bird’s aura would be enough to indicate it’s feelings but with his powers failing steadily, even that is no longer available to him. Even Dean’s soul… he would have liked to see it one last time… even that simple pleasure had been revoked.So Castiel made his way towards his new life completely unaware that something sinister was watching him and to the pile of rotting flesh that lay just a few yards away.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 45
Kudos: 90





	1. We Are

The bunker door slams behind him and he finally lets his walls drop. Three sobs burst from his chest in quick succession. That is all he allows himself. Anything else would be excessive. He can’t let himself fall apart when there was still work to be done. He had to find Jack. Ananel. Maybe, if things in Heaven were bad enough, they would allow him to return and help keep the lights on. It would be a shame if Rowena’s sacrifice went in vain; that the world ended because Heaven broke open and trillions of souls rained down.

Castiel shuts his eyes willing the memory of Dean leaning desolately against the table away. He could feel the confliction in Dean’s soul. The temptation to remain loyal despite all that he had done. A selfish part of him and wanted to stick around… see if Dean would forgive him. But Castiel could tell when something had been broken. And that’s what they were. He couldn’t think of Dean not forgiving him and worse yet, he couldn’t think of Dean forgiving him, only for Castiel to destroy something else in their lives.

It’s better if he keeps his distance.

He can’t bear being a disappointment.

His powers are failing anyway. Soon he’d become irrelevant. Best to cut all ties now; of his own accord.

Slowly, reluctantly he steps through the underbrush surrounding the bunker lost in his thoughts the times where he had felt accepted and included in the Winchester’s family and the times he had ruined their relationship. _“We are.” _He had said to Dean. And at the time he’d believed it… because he couldn’t bear not to.

Dean had realised though. They weren’t real. It was then that Castiel realised that he had to leave.

He stops.

Soft chirping comes from a nearby bush. He crouches near it, knowing that birds are usually asleep at this time. Inside a small nest is a lone dove. It’s wing is broken. Castiel can relate. He strokes the bird’s head tenderly and it nuzzles at him with its beak. “You’ll be okay.” He assures, taking a moment to appreciate the plushness of its feathers. He releases a small trickle of grace, instantly mending the bird’s wing. It chirps again, this time happily and burrows into his hand in thanks.

There was once a time when the bird’s aura would be enough to indicate it’s feelings but with his powers failing steadily, even that is no longer available to him. Even Dean’s soul… he would have liked to see it one last time… even that simple pleasure had been revoked.

So Castiel made his way towards his new life completely unaware that something sinister was watching him and to the pile of rotting flesh that lay just a few yards away.

...

Castiel drags himself out of bed with a groan. Before sitting up and grabbing his gun. It appears that losing his grace is making him lethargic. No one should be knocking on his hotel door. No one even knows that he’s here. He approaches the door silently and peers through the peep hole.

He’d know that head anywhere.

Dean.

In that moment it’s pure instinct that makes him rip the door open and stare at his friend.

“Cass?” Dean looks at him dazedly, his green eyes unfocused and shifty.

Castiel frowns, suddenly remembering their current feud. No. It wasn’t a feud. He’d left for good. They had both agreed that they should go their separate ways. Which isn’t what he wanted. But he couldn’t take the intense loathing and disregard that Dean had sent his way. Sometimes Dean made him feel like he wasn’t even there. Useless to them. Invisible. _Dead to him._

And nothing had changed.

“You’re drunk.” He observes, casually filling the door frame to hide the disarray in the room.

“Yeah.” Dean slurs. “I’ve been drunk since you left.”

Gulping, Castiel tightens his grip on the door. That isn’t what he had expected to hear.

Dean leans into his face and Castiel gets a whiff of whiskey. His eyes roam over Castiel’s face in a way that is usually reserved for flirting with women. Dean’s face is inches away; Castiel can distinctly see each and every freckle in his pale skin. “I’ve missed you.” Dean leans in to wrap his arms around him, pressing his face tightly into his neck; goose bumps ensue as Dean’s hot breath tickles across his skin.

His arms remain trapped at his side and Dean doesn’t seem to want to end their embrace.

Damp lips press against his neck and Castiel shivers as Dean slowly sticks his tongue out moving it in tiny circles. His eyes shoot open and he finally catches himself enough to yank out of Dean’s arms.

Pouting as Castiel moves away Dean grabs him by his tie and yanks him closer. Lips meet in a jarring clash that knocks the breath out of Castiel. Dean’s tongue parts his mouth licking lightly all over. To say that Castiel is stunned would be the biggest understatement of the century. Dean would _never_ ever do such things with a male. Something he had made abundantly clear throughout the years.

“Kiss me back.” He pleads.

He stammers, “No! Why are you doing this.”

Dewy green eyes stare at him, “Because I’ve missed you. Because you’re the only one I can trust to always be there for me.”

“You have Sam.”

Dean laughs, loud and raucous, “Sammy left. Chuck’s gone so he left to go live his dream life.” He laughs again, leaning almost all his weight onto Castiel, “First you left. Then him. I was thinking… maybe I should leave too.” he waves a hand, “Y’know. Check out of this hell hole and into another slightly worse hell hole.”

Gripping his arm harshly Castiel wrenches him upright once more. “Don’t.” he begs, “I’ll help you Dean.”

For the first time Dean looks something resembling sober. “You will?”

“Of course.” He says, lessening his grip into something gentler. “But you’re mad at me.” It feels necessary to remind Dean of this in his current state of intoxication.

“I was.” He admits, “Still kinda am. But – you’re it for me Cass. If I think of myself happy, you’re always there.”

“When I think of happiness I think of you too Dean.” His voice is rough, with shock… with joy. That Dean would forgive him… need him again.

“Good.” Says Dean. “Then kiss me. Because I’m in love with you.”

Castiel lets out a shaky breath. Never had he dreamed of hearing those words from Dean’s lips, in Dean’s voice. He’s amost too thrown off to even respond but he knows that he can’t pass up this chance. Dean could be drunk enough to regret this in the morning or even forget it entirely but drunk mouths speak hard truths. And Dean loves him “I love you too Dean.” He says with conviction, slamming their lips together once more.


	2. Dean Doesn't Get The Reference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any ideas on what's going on here? *wink wink nudge nudge*

His common sense awakens about the same time as he does. It rings alarm bells in his head and terror slices through him.

Dean is still beside him, sound asleep, flannel fanning all around him.

Silently, he reaches into his bedside drawer bringing out the holy water. Now that he isn’t drunk on Dean’s presence, certain things are starting to look fishy. He wets his fingers and touches them to Dean’s lips.

Nothing.

Next he sprinkles some salt.

Nothing.

Pressing a silver knife only serves to wake him up.

Disappointment immediately colours his features, washing away any trace of sleepiness. “You don’t think it’s me.” he pushes himself up, avoiding Castiel’s eyes. “I deserve that.”

“Now I’m sure it’s you.” he offers… and cringes immediately when he realises how it sounds.

“Dean…”

“At least you’ve been using what I’ve taught you. I should be proud.” He leans towards Castiel with a smirk, “Let me show you how proud I am.”

He captures Castiel’s lips again… and it’s like a spell was cast. His blood burns brightly with the desire to always stay by Dean’s side. His body tingles with the urge to follow Dean’s orders as it always has, only now it’s different. Now he knows it’s real.

Tangible.

Like Dean’s kisses.

His groin burns with the need to be touched. By himself… my Dean… by the bed sheets.

He moans as Dean lowers his head to his throat licking and kissing gently along his way. “Mhhh so good Cass.” His name, coming off Dean’s tongue in that tone sends tremors rolling through him. If he could die happy, it would be here.

His eyes fly wide open.

Die happy.

The Shadow.

Fear grips him and he almost shoves Dean away.

‘_And then, when you finally give yourself permission to be happy and let the sun shine on your face, that's when I'll come._

_That's when I'll come to drag you to nothing.’_

“Cass what’s wrong?”

  
So he admits it, all of it. Dean sits there in stunned silence and Castiel fears he may just leave him here all over again. Then he would really wish for the Empty.

“Okay.” He breathes, “We’ve got it all out in the open.” He moves his hand and it gravitates towards Castiel’s shoulder; the friendly pat that had always done wonders for him, but pulls back at the last second. “So what you’re saying is… you can be happy… to an extent. He won’t take you as long as you don’t forget.”

“That’s one interpretation.” He says gently, “But I have no idea what he actually means.”

“I should leave.” Dean’s face looks stricken even as he mutters the words. “To keep you safe… is that – is that why you left?”

“Maybe… subconsciously. But Dean, I don’t want you to leave.”

“What if he takes you? Huh, Cass, how am I going to live with that?”

Castiel doesn’t know.

It’s an impossible situation. A hard choice.

Once, many years ago, he might have been good at those.

But right now, he just wants to kiss Dean, consequences he damned.

It doesn’t take much to convince Dean. After just a few kisses and a few minutes of strenuous grinding, Dean is putty in his hands.

He moves his hands down, tugging at Dean’s pants. The thing just won’t budge. Dean lips his hips not breaking their kiss and scrambles for Castiel’s pants. He kicks them off hastily flinging them both _away._ He tries glancing down but Dean just pulls him in for another kiss.

Hands on his hips drag him down their erections sliding past one another in a dance of carnal pleasure. His hands almost buckle under him on the first stroke and he’s pretty sure that his heavy breathing is anything but sexy to Dean.

They find each other’s eyes, the bright mid-morning sun hides nothing. He can see every inch of Dean’s face. The sweat, the exertion, the expressions of pleasure. And he revels in it. The one thing he would wish for would be to see Dean’s soul in this moment.

Their hips falter and their breaths grow harsher. Castiel feels hands grabbing at his shoulders, legs tightening bruising around his waist. His own thighs tremble with the effort and sweat covers his entire body in a thin film.

Dean releases first, with a loud shout, “Cass!” Before falling quiet besides small moans.

The sight of Dean falling apart under him; by the virtue of his own body makes Castiel explode. He feels his orgasm tear through him, spurts joining Dean’s mess on his stomach, creating a slick surface for him to thrust on. Castiel moans as it slows, kissing Dean and murmuring his name almost like a chant.

And despite his recent orgasm, he still feels high.

Dean lays by his side. Content for the first time in a long while. No longer cringing or fleeing his mere presence. It’s a welcome change. How things had managed to turn to rotten between them… he doesn’t want to think about that now. He wants to be happy. Or… as happy as he could be anyway.

“Dean?”

Dean hums. He lays on his back, arms folded behind his head, his chest still rises rapidly and his lips and neck look completely flushed. Castiel curses the existence of the refractory period. If here were still at full power he’d make it so that they could both perform for as long as they wanted.

“Squeeze me baby till the juice runs down my leg; the way you squeeze my lemon, I’m gonna fall right out of bed.” His voice is scratchy, hardly a singer’s. But he makes the effort. He remembered the lyrics from ‘Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx’.

Confusion is all that greets him in Dean’s stare though.

How could he forget the lyrics of the song that he had compiled into his ‘top traxx’?

Dean would never forget that…Castiel knows full well that he knows every Zeppelin song that ever existed.  
  


Maybe Dean just didn't get the reference.


	3. Dessert

DESSERT

Castiel had successfully dug up a grave in his nearly human state. He’d been almost completely drained and Dean had to salt and burn the body, but he did it. It felt oddly fulfilling to complete a task that Sam and Dean had been doing for years. Sure, he’d felt like giving up about ten times due to the exhaustion and the back pain, but Dean encouraged him and he eventually reached the bottom.

To celebrate, Dean insists that they go out for dinner.

Dean tells him about the quaint burger shop they had passed on their way to the cemetery.

Things had been good between them.

Peaceful.

Barely any time had passed since their reunion but Dean already seems like a changed man. He’s infinitely nicer, he cuddles with Castiel regularly and does shy away from his feelings (except anything that deals with Sam, but Castiel understands his reluctance to broach that topic.)

They ate together, Dean sometimes held his hand in public. Everything seems perfect. Now that Chuck had abandoned them, he doesn’t have to worry as much… about saving the world, about his dwindling grace. Dean had hardly mentioned it, slipping into a fairly domestic life with ease.

Honestly, Dean barely acts like himself and sometimes he can ignore it, but others make him wish for _his _Dean. The one who would always give his true opinion, no matter how hurtful. The one who would drink beer and laugh with him, explaining the references that he didn’t get or the reason he wanted two people on the TV to get together.

“Hey Dean, can we play some music?” He’s desperate for any distraction and his hand is already reaching for the dial. He presses it, only to have his hand smacked away.

Loud screaming fills the car and Castiel stares in bewilderment even as Dean slams the radio off with enough force to snap the knob off. Castiel is horrified. This is Baby. Dean’s baby. He won’t hurt her. He must have done something wrong… oh, he’d touched her.

“Sorry Dean.” He murmurs, recoiling.

Dean immediately squeezes the wheel, “It’s fine, I overreacted… I just – I’ve been listening to Metallica pop recently and I’m just – not ready to share yet. Just keep your fingers off of Baby.”

Metallica pop, Castiel didn’t even know that genre existed, but humans were always evolving and labelling things. It’s quite an odd choice for Dean, who usually prefers his music scream free. Maybe he had always liked it but Sam hadn’t, so he’d never been able to listen to it.

Castiel smiles, even though the niggling sense of unease seeps further through his bones.

…

“Dean stop.” He moans.

Words that he never thought he’d be saying.

But he did dig up a grave. He’s earned his burger ten times over.

Dean can’t seem to stop kissing him though. Pressing him back into the seats and letting his hands and mouth roam. In any other circumstance he wouldn’t be protesting but he’s sticky and starving. He doesn’t even understand how Dean can take the smell.

“Dean.” He tries again. “My stomach is about to eat itself.”

Dean grumbles loudly, but, holding the door of the Impala open with a smirk. “Worked up quite an appetite there Cass.”

“Digging up a dead body does that to a guy.” Any bite in the quip falls flat. He can’t be angry with Dean right now, not when he just kissed him.

On their way to the door, two girls blatantly stop to gawk at Dean. He feels a surge of possessiveness overwhelm him and it’s like he’s not even in control anymore. And he doesn’t care.

The only thing he cares about is Dean.

He focuses his best scowl onto them. The heavens had once trembled under his might, but these two girls’ fear would be more than enough. As long as they stopped looking at Dean like that.

“I love me a steak burger.” Dean says to break the intense glowering. It works, and Castiel’s full attention is directed to Dean once more.

The girls are retreating, not even bothering to look back. Castiel feels the tension abruptly release and he feels drained.

Castiel wonders if it’s really love though, as Dean rips into his burger with the voraciousness of a starving bear. Ketchup splatters off to the side on every bite and he doesn’t seem to be holding the burger quite right. Everything is tumbling out and landing in the wrapper even as Dean struggles to find the right angle to hold the buns.

“So let’s talk about the case.” The sentence barely makes it past his full mouth; particles of half-chewed food do though, landing precariously close to Castiel’s plate.

“What about the case?” It had been a simple salt and burn. Simple and exhausting anyway.

“How great your ass looked while you were digging.” He grins proudly.

Castiel huffs, “So _that’s _why you didn’t help me.”

Dean shrugs.

That bastard.

“I found a new case.” He comments, chomping on his burger. “It’s a shifter. Actually, just a few towns over. We’ll hit that one tomorrow.”

“A shifter.” He murmurs. “Silver?”

“Winner, winner chicken dinner.” Dean winks. “Or bacon dinner, whatever you want baby.”

“Dean.” He chastises, “I thought we had long established that I’m not a child. I have never been a child.”

“Jeeze, chillax buddy. Baby is just … an endearment.”

“Oh.”

Dean feels endeared to him. Castiel fights his smile of triumph. He never realised how his heart could flutter – no not flutter – it’s beating as fast as a humming bird’s wings. The butterflies are in his stomach. He suddenly snaps to attention. Endearments are meant to be returned.

“Thank you honey.”

“You don’t have to thank me man.” Dean shrugs, “Well maybe you can. You’re getting me dessert.”

“Alright Dean.” He drags the name out purposefully and Dean cringes as expected, “I won’t forget the- ”

“Ooh Cass!” he looks excitedly at the menu, “Cheesecake.”


	4. The Peculiarities of Sam Winchester and The Impala

“Cass, something is wrong.” Sam’s voice fills his ear even as Dean snores serenely next to him. “He’s been missing for almost a week now. The Imapla is gone and he’s not answering any of my calls.”

Shaking himself into awareness, Dean “You left Sam. What did you expect?”

He sits up, shaking off the last dregs of sleepiness. “Cass! I _need _to know that Dean is safe.” Castiel remains silent, listening dispassionately to Sam’s ragged breathing. “Wait.” Sam’s voice raises, “What do you mean I –”

In no mood for games, Castiel cuts him brusquely off before he can complete that thought, “Dean is safe. With me. Stop calling.”

“Wait, Cass, get silver, get a bronze dagger and coat it in your blood, that’s not – ” he cuts off his frantic protests, ending the call and returning to his place in bed. His place next to Dean.

He watches his friend’s face for over an hour. Watching the lines and his freckles. He could have sworn that Dean never covered them in make-up before. So why now? Does he think that Castiel doesn’t like them? Because he does, very much.

“You’re being creepy.” Dean murmurs with his eyes still closed.

“You like it though.” He whispers back, leaning down to lick at Dean’s neck.

He groans, “Damn, Cass.” He breathes, petting Castiel’s hair lightly, “You really know how to wake a guy right up.”

Smirking, he glances down at the tent in the blankets. “I’ll give you a real wake-up call Dean.” He says as he slithers down under the blankets.

…

“I’m getting sick of this car.” Dean says, slapping the Impala harshly, his face is set in hard lines and his grip is slack on the wheel; almost as though he’s disgusted by the car.

“You’re selling it?” Castiel wonders, confused. Dean loved this car, sometimes he wondered if Dean had loved the car more than Sam.

“Nah.” Dean zooms ahead, “I’m thinking maybe you could smash it for me. Y’know. Make a day of it.”

That makes no sense. But love rarely does.

Castiel is slowly realising that something is horribly wrong.

But he can’t seem to care.

‘Love is stupid’ they say.

He knows somewhere deep inside that his grace is being used up voraciously to fight the toxins in his blood stream. And he wants to care and for a few seconds… he does, but then he’s falling for Dean all over again.

_Not _Dean, he reminds himself, Dean likes pie, Dean likes rock, Dean loves the Impala and Dean hates Castiel.

But this Dean doesn’t.

Castiel loves him, he won’t forsake him, or deny him the one thing he asks of him.

“Alright Dean.” He says, “As soon as we kill this shifter I’ll destroy the car.

The radio flickers on, without either of them having touched it and Dean immediately slams it off again with a shudder, disconnecting it completely. “See!” he gestures at the radio, “Malfunction galore… or it’s haunted. Either way, this thing has got to go.”

…

“Dean?!” Castiel’s eyes dart from left to right. He’d hit his head earlier but he knows that there really are two Dean’s in front of him. His Dean is one of them. But he doesn’t know which.

“This morning you sucked me off in bed!” one says, just as the other retorts with, “This morning I called you creepy.”

The details are so recent so… new, Castiel doesn’t know what to think.

He grips his silver knife, ready to lunge at the slightest movement.

“What’s your go word?” he asks. “You and Sam, you have a code word – ”

“Poughkeepsie!”

Castiel stabs the other Dean immediately, smiling as he falls to the ground, his mouth gaping like a fish.

His Dean laughs then – cackles. And Castiel feels his blood drain away.

He killed the wrong one, he realises in horror. He falls to his knees beside the man he loves, Dean’s blood is soaking into his pants, his hands… it’s everywhere. Castiel reaches deep inside himself, trying to wring out the last dregs of his powers to use them to heal Dean. All of it gone. His hand sparks lamely twice before the last of his grace fizzles away.

When the first sob breaks free he doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t care that the shifter is laughing, moving – to kill him or to leave. Dean had trusted him – once again Dean had trusted him… and once again, he’d betrayed his trust; gotten him killed. _Killed him._

_I killed him._

Dean is dead. Castiel killed him. He wretches violently, barely managing to stumble more than ten steps away from Dean. He glances back at the body and vomits again, he can make out traces of burgers and cheesecake. Just the other night, Dean had been alive, eating and laughing with him. Castiel struggles to reconcile that Dean with the corpse on the floor.

_I killed him._

Numb legs take him to the Impala after his tears had dried and the body had begun to smell. He shuts the door softly, his muscles unwilling to do much more.

He sits silently, staring at the mallet in the back seat. Maybe he should destroy the car, like Dean had wanted him to. It had practically been his dying wish, and Castiel knows enough about humans now that he knows that a dying wish should always be fulfilled.

He reaches back, barely summoning enough energy to cradle the mallet and set it beside him.

Maybe he should call Sam.

They could make a deal. Bring Dean back. Sam would still care right?

Almost on auto-pilot, he extracts his most valuable possession from the inner pocket of his coat.

‘Dean’s Top 13 Zepp Traxx’

Slowly reconnecting the radio he inserts the mixtape.

The first song that plays hits him hard; it's not even the first song on the list:

‘I’ve been working from seven, seven, seven, to eleven every night. It kinda makes my life feel like a drag, a drag, drag. Ah, yeah, it makes me a drag. Baby since I’ve been loving you, I’m about to lose, I’m about to lose, lose my worried mind…’


	5. And I Was Like 'Baby?'

… ‘lose my worried mind’

“Cass!” a voice crackles through the speakers it sounds beyond rough and distorted but Castiel would know that voice anywhere.

“Dean!” he sobs. For a second he thinks that he’s lost his mind.

“Cass!” the voice calls again. “You’re alive. You can _hear_ me.”

“You’re dead.” He whispers in despondency.

“No.” the voice crackles. “No. They trapped me in Baby. To watch as they tricked you. The shifter came to you first and it knew everything about me to get it into the door. Then you came to your senses and tested it… only it was the siren this time. And it seduced you… with it’s venom. This isn’t your fault buddy.”

Castiel sobs harder now. Is he going insane?

But he thinks back to the way everything had happened… all the things that were Dean but they _weren’t. _Not getting Zepplien references, cheesecake over pie… Baby…

The siren had wanted Castiel to destroy her… and by extension Dean. And he would have.

And he would have really killed Dean.

Sam had warned him, he realises, telling him to bleed on a bronze blade. How could he be so stupid?

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up over this okay.” Dean assures, “I –well, I got tricked by a siren once too and I never saw it coming. If Bobby hadn’t shown up when he did, Sam and I would have killed each other.”

Breathing deeply to calm himself down, he tries to take in Dean’s words. To reconcile himself with the fact that he’d been living a lie… for weeks. Thinking that Dean was in love with him… happy with him… sure, there had been doubt, but for all intents and purposes he thought that his new life was real.

And even though Dean is still alive, he can’t help but feeling as though everything has slipped away.

“We have to get you back to Sam.” He says numbly. Now that his mind is no longer clouded by the venom he can feel the piercing loss of Dean… remember that he’s been trapped in that car the entire time. Siren Dean had kissed him in here, made him orgasm, told him how much he loves him… and Castiel had returned the sentiment without reservation.

Dean had been trapped in this car, screaming for weeks if he guesses correctly and Castiel had been so wrapped up in his new love to realise. Dean had seen it all. What would he do now that he knows how he really feels? Their fight had never been resolved, as soon as they got Dean out of the Impala, Castiel would be expected to leave again.

“How did you get into this situation?” he asks, trying to keep his voice even.

“How do you think?” Dean asks flippantly, “A witch.”

“Then the best thing we can do is get you to Sam.”

“Yeah, he’s the witch protégé so he’ll know what to do.”

They drive in silence for a while before Dean speaks up, “You know I love Baby. But right now I’m sick of her.” he sighs, “About – all those… things… that I saw –”

He shushes Dean before he can get any further. “You know Dean, I’d rather not talk about this right now.”

“Okay.” Dean replies, but even though his voice is disembodied, Castiel knows that he doesn’t really mean it. “But just so you know, you don’t have to feel bad about this. It isn’t on you. They clearly … concocted some sort of elaborate trick. And we don’t even know why.”

_‘Why does that something always have to be you?!”_

Dean’s words now are a stark contrast to the ones he’d uttered that night in the bunker.

…

“Sam.” He says tentatively, clutching the phone like a life line.

“Cass!” he exclaims, obviously relieved, “I’ve been trying to track –”

“I killed the siren.” He replies, “And I’ve found the real Dean.”

“That’s great!” Sam says, “Put me on –”

He pauses.

“Sam?”

His voice is thin. “Does he know that the siren came to you… in his form?”

“Yes.” He says, shame coating his voice. Dean knows every sordid, shameful detail.

“Sorry Cass.”

“So am I.” he says with a sigh. He’d never felt a tiredness like this before. It’s as though his bones ache and his muscles no longer have the will to do anything.

“Hey, can I talk to Sam?” Dean calls through the radio. “Update him so we can start looking. I’m sure he’ll get his shits and giggles out of this one.”

“Sammy.” He says as Castiel holds the phone up to the speaker. “Cass got seduced by a siren and a shapeshifter and in the mean time I – I was like ‘Baby’. Yup. I was _in Baby._” He laughs, “Man, it’s a dream come true. Except I saw some shit that made me want to bleach my mirrors.”

“Alright Dean.” Sam laughs, more in relief that his brother isn’t dead rather than at Dean’s meager attempt at a joke. “I’m glad you’re… somewhat okay.” He says, “I’ll start looking for a way to get you back.”

A pause.

“Unless you’re enjoying yourself so much that you don’t want to come back.” Sam teases.

Castiel smiles despite himself.

“Cass stop laughin’ at me.” harrumphs Dean.

“Should I tune your radio then?” Castiel replies, unable to resist Dean’s teasing, “Or should I … put some junk in your trunk.”

“Definitely no junk in my trunk.” He says, “Have some decency.”

This time Sam laughs, “Right. You’re one to talk.”

“Shut up bitch.”

“Jerk.”

The call cuts.

“Why do you think they targeted you like that?” Dean wonders aloud. “I mean, they had a pretty elaborate scheme there and it’s rare that monsters of different… species? … I don’t know… work together like that. Last time that happened, Eve was in town. But it must be something else this time.”

“We’ll figure that out.” He assures, “After we get you into a human form again.”


	6. Tremors In The New World

Castiel stares at naked Dean, unable to tear his eyes away. Dean for the most part doesn’t even seem to notice. His main concern is running his hands all over his body as though checking to see if all the parts are there.

When he gets to his genital he smiles almost immediately. “I missed you the most. I’d kiss you if I could.”

Slamming Rowena’s spell book shut, Sam clears his throat loudly. “Now that that’s over…”

He raises and eyebrow, waiting for Dean to respond. Dean looks between them, confused.

“Dean say something.” Sam orders.

Flushing, Dean licks at his lips, “I um, tired.” He gives them one lingering glance before turning away with a: “Night you two” tossed over his shoulder.

Castiel glances at Sam, fidgeting and unsure of what he should do. One thing is for sure… he can’t get _real_ naked Dean out of his head.

“Do you think he will be okay?” He asks tentatively.

Sam looks uncertain but tries to smooth out his expression. “I hope so. We don’t know what he went through in there… you know. And it’s Dean.” He chuckles wryly, “The king of brushing stuff off with bad jokes and movie quotes.”

“You’ll be here for him though.” He says almost probingly. What Castiel really wants to know if whether Dean will be okay if he leaves because as much as Castiel wants to stick around and make sure Dean is okay for himself… he doesn’t think that is the best course of action. First of all Dean probably never wants to see him again, now that he knows the truth about Castiel’s feelings and secondly… Castiel would _never_ be able to act normally around Dean Winchester ever again. Those weeks with the sifter – siren – or whatever tag team combo they had pulled, had changed him permanently.

To know what Dean would be like in bed, the things he would do, how wondrous he touches would feel… and to not have that Dean… that would destroy him irrevocably.

Or worse yet; he’d be able to act naturally around Dean and things would go back to normal… only, one day he’d become complacent and he would slip up… kiss Dean or tell him ‘I love you’ or even show jealousy when Dean got lucky – and Dean Winchester _would _get lucky. He’s all too aware of that.

No. He simply can’t stay.

“You can’t leave.” Sam says.

“Why not?” he wonders. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Has eternity ended?” Sam wonders.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” He gripes.

Sam smirks, “Right back attcha Cass. You are welcome here for eternity. When that ends, feel free to get the hell out… but until then… I’d like you to stay.” He takes a breath, resting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder in the universal symbol of support and friendship. “And I know Dean would too.”

“Okay.” Castiel agrees, still uncertain. “But if Dean tells me that… he doesn’t want me here, then I will leave.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line Sam looks dubious, “Fair enough Cass. But that isn’t happening. Whatever happened… whatever Dean saw… he can get past it.”

…

Dean strolls into the kitchen at almost two in the evening, bypassing Castiel and Sam entirely and heading to the coffee machine where he stands immobile for nearly two minutes. When he finally moves to pour his drink, Castiel sees the tremble in his fingers and the way his legs seem unsteady.

He glances at Sam and they share a look.

Dean, wordlessly, moves into the seat near the end of the table.

“Good morning Dean.” Castiel says, wincing at how loud his voice sounds in the silence.

Nothing.

No reaction.

No movement.

No response.

He deflates. And so it begins.

“Dean?” Sam tries this time, laying an arm on his brother’s hand. “Are you okay?”

Still, no response.

“Dean?” Sam calls again, prying his fingers off of the coffee mug. “Please say something.”

That seems to snap Dean out of his trance.

He screams loudly and endlessly yet remains completely immobile. In his garbled cries, Castiel can make out enough to piece together what is happening. “Sam, he thinks he’s trapped.”

Sam’s eyes widen in panic. “I don’t know what to do.”

He gulps, “Can I – can I try something?”

Shakily, Sam steps back, letting Castiel get closer.

“Dean you aren’t trapped anymore.” He says in his most soothing voice “You are in your body. This is real. Sam and I can hear you so you don’t need to scream anymore.” Dean stops screaming and looks straight at him with watery green eyes. “We can hear you.” he reassures Dean.

“You hear me?”

“Yes.” Sam say emphatically, “We hear you Dean.”

Latching onto Castiel’s arm, Dean uses it as an anchor as he takes a few deep breaths. He looks up at Castiel with his bright green eyes and almost in shock he says, “You stayed.”

“Can you take me back to my room Cass?” Dean seems prepared to receive no reply at all.

“Of course Dean.” He says sincerely. “Anything you need.”

With Dean sandwiched between him and Sam, the three of them make their way to Dean’s bedroom and they rest Dean on his bed.

Hmm.

Castiel pats it, cocking his head.

“You changed your mattress.” He observes blithely.

Dean hums.

“I thought you enjoyed your memory foam.”


	7. Djinn In The Details

The mattress… the mattress was passable.

So what if Dean preferred a hard mattress with strings stabbing into his back?

After his initial horror Castiel convinced himself that he was just being paranoid. But certain things can’t be attributed to paranoia.

Like: the way Dean calls him Castiel as much as he Cass, the way his love for bacon somehow morphed into a prime rib obsession or the way the Impala no longer has Sam’s toy soldiers rattling around or suck in the seats. The cherry on top of all the weird misconstructions of this world is John’s journal. He’d found it lying on Dean’s bedside table… and it was covered in a black leathery casing. _Black._ And the writing was nowhere near what Castiel remembers it to be.

That, had led him to the conclusion that he’s trapped. Most likely in a djinn created world. This happened to Dean once… the real Dean, and he’d managed to escape after killing himself. The strangest thing is that Castiel cannot fathom why a djinn would come after him, much less fabricate an entire intricate, illusion world where he isn’t even happy. Djinns are supposed to keep their victim happy by giving them their greatest fantasy while slowly draining their life force away. Castiel is beyond certain that his dream life doesn’t involve being tricked by multiple Dean’s and emotionally abusing himself.

…

“Castiel.” The voice lulls him into cognisance. “Castiel. Castiel.”

He wakes, strapped to a bed.

The djinn movers near him, grinning maliciously.

“I will hunt you down.” He snarls.

“Will you?” the djinn smirks. “Or will the Winchester?”

Castiel’s blood runs cold at the thought of the Winchesters – Dean specifically.

“Good.” The djinn hisses. “My work is complete.”

And then it does the strangest thing… it unlocks the chains and disconnects the blood bags. Castiel wants to attack, but his body isn’t getting the memo. It smiles sinisterly at him one last time before sashaying out of the room with a parting insult: “Never forget me Castiel. I am the one who tricked you completely and played you into your own demise. When we meet again… nothing about that will change.”

…

“Cass!” Dean yells slamming the bunker door shut.

Ever since his miraculous return Cass barely says two words to him. And that’s on a good day. Mostly, he stays holed up in his room, drinking and watching Netflix. He doesn’t care that Chuck is gone or that there’s still work left to do in the world. A job hunting werewolves? Cass refused to even pick up a silver blade. It’s like he really left.

He’s withdrawn from them completely and any attempt by either Sam or himself has led to flat out refusal. Dean can only assume that he’s still mad about their… incident. But whenever he tries to have a conversation, Cass brushes him off. He can barely stand Dean’s presence for more than a few seconds and seems to drift off into space sometimes.

Dean would say he’s possessed, but coating his door with holy water led to nothing but a glare.

Reluctantly, Dean agrees to Sam’s plan. Dean head out for ‘a walk.’ And Cass and Sam hash out whatever shit they have to. If the problem really _is_ Dean then…

Well he’s not sure, but they’ll cross that bridge when they need to and not a moment before.

“You remember the plan?” Sam asks, ushering him up the stairs.

“Yes Sam. What kind of idiot can’t remember a two-step plan?”

Sam rolls his eyes, unlocking the door. “Gimme twenty with Cass.”

He gives a mock salute before walking away. He doesn’t see the big whoop about walks. Not the way Sam does and certainly not in the way that would drive him to go on them every friggin’ day. Pausing at a bush, he bends to inspect it. A ransacked nest is all he finds. That’s natural selection for you.

The poor little bird probably had eggs that a snake had swallowed right up and-

Ugh!

What the heck is that disgusting smell?

Dean hasn’t smelled anything that putrid in a while. It takes him back to the thousands of decaying bodies him and Sam dealt with. By the smell of it, it’s been there for a while. Dean half hopes that it’s the thing that ate the poor birds. Maybe a racoon or a fox. The smell leads him right to it. And boy is it a beast. Just… quite obviously, not the one he’d been hoping for.

He would recognise that disgusting lump of putrefied flesh anywhere. It’s a formless mass, in a glop of hair feathers and skin; a shifter.

The underbrush is trampled as he races back to the bunker. His first thought is Sam… but Cass comes in a close second. Not imposter Cass. _Real _Cass. _His _Cass.

Throwing the door open he marches down the stairs and grabs a silver knife from the kitchen, thinking back at it’s refusal to even touch one earlier.

“Dean!” Sam snaps, “Simple plan, remember?”

“It’s a shifter.” The things eyes widen in surprise at being caught and it moves to retaliate.

“Come here you filthy bastard!” Dean growls as Sam scampers for a knife of his own. “Where’s the real Cass?”

It smirks in a manner so unlike Cass that Dean is left doubtless.

Dean pins it to the ground and lifts the knife about its head, fully prepared to slam it down when it reaches forward with a pout and says, “Dean please… I need you.”

And for a moment, Dean is lost. It’s like Cass is pleading with him. He remembers the time when Cass was the one who was under him, when the Mark was in play.

He couldn’t do it then.

He can’t do it now.

But Sam can.

Dean shuts his eyes in time to miss the blood spatter, but not quickly enough to miss the look in Cass’ eyes as he died. Not Cass, he reminds himself even as his friend’s body falls lifelessly on top of him.


	8. Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

Dean remains frozen in panic as the body pins him to the ground. It isn’t Cass. And … rationally, he knows that. But it might as well be. He’s been gone for _weeks_. Replaced by an imposter and, yet again, Dean had failed him. Failed to notice. He knew something was wrong, should have followed his gut and done something. Anything.

The real Cass could be dead… his body decaying… rotting in some ditch because this thing killed him. Or maybe some other thing had. Or… maybe… He’s alive. Living his best life without Dean because he thought that Dean never went after him; never gave him a second thought.

That couldn’t be further from the truth. About an hour after their blow out session, he’s rushed up the stairs, hoping and praying that Cass might still be nearby. The relief Dean had felt, seeing his friend near a tree… near a bush now that he thinks of it. The shifter must have gotten the real Cass’ DNA by posing as a bird. The bastard. Preying on Cass’ weaknesses.

All the trying of the past few weeks was wasted… on someone who wasn’t even real.

_“Dean! You asked – what about all of this is real? We are.”_

Stupid. That’s what he is. For sulking. For pretending that they weren’t when Cass is one of the realest things in his life. He should have never wakled out of that room. Dean should have stayed… said yes and let Cass know that he knows they’re real too. That their fight was temporary.

Time heals all wounds. Cass would understand that. He’s understand that they’d been tricked completely by a creatures with all his memories. He’d sense Dean’s sincerity and it might take some time, but forgiveness would come; from both sides. Dean is sure. Because he can’t imagine a life without Cass by his side.

As Sam pulls the corpse off of him, Dean has a moment of clarity.

He needs to find Cass.

He needs to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, to him that _they are real_.

…

Cass rocks back and forth on the bed.

Why would he leave? They can find him anywhere.

Was anything real?

He’d been so stupid. To think that Dean could love him. So gullible. So useless.

Castiel tries to figure out where it all went wrong. Because it had. Terribly wrong. Irrevocably wrong. He pulls at his hair, biting his lip to concentrate. He’s determined to do this thing. This one thing, he can do it.

Okay.

The siren must have been the one to come to him first. But no. It knew things about him that only a shifter would. So the shifter had been the one to spend the night with him. And in the morning, when it knew he would begin to question why ‘Dean’ suddenly wanted to have sex with him, the siren took its place.

That’s why the silver, salt and holy water had no effect.

The siren, he realises, kissed him often. And he’s lavished in the attention like a fly tangled in the web of a hungry spider. It must have had such fun with him. Castiel feels violated. His body. His mind. The sanctity of Dean. Violated.

His grace had been fighting back, he supposes. Because he recalls brief flashes of lucidity, washed away by a venomous kiss. He remembers the feeling. All his doubts, diluted … washed away by a poison that kept his attention solely on Dean. The siren.

Castiel has lost all sense of distinction.

Focus. He reminds himself.

But it’s hard to. All those wasted moments where he’s shamed himself beyond belief. In front of Dean no less, who’d been trapped in the Impala.

No. No that’s not right.

He’d killed the shifter… with a silver knife. Or had it been the siren. He isn’t sure. Though, if it was… he’d left them both alive… to torment him another day.

Castiel tries to think back… past the venomous fog.

Dean was screaming. In the Impala. He’s sure of it. He heard the screams. And the siren… it was so determined to keep him away from the radio. It’s desire to destroy the Impala. It’s the only explanation. He ponders. For minutes, he remains still, trying to sort out the interactions and relive each memory – examining it under a new light.

The siren had played him well, he realises. He never heard Dean’s screaming. It could have easily been any recording. It had deliberately forced the issue; to let him believe that there was something there… that just wasn’t.

That way, when the djinn took him, he’d be too worried about saving Dean to realise.

It was a truly well concocted plan; the mobilization of monsters and the melding of their powers to create a true entrapment. Castiel he just wishes he hadn’t fallen in.

And though he tries to avoid it, his mind always drifts back to the one person who had hurt him the most.

Dean.

Dean who never cared to look for him.

Dean who is still mad at him. Can’t look at him. Never forgive him. He’s well and truly dead to Dean.

The monsters knew it when they targeted him. Castiel was the only one who couldn’t accept defeat. All their schemes and all their trickery had revealed to him the one lie he’s convinced himself was true; that they were real. Dean had used him just as much as the monsters… for his own plan and his own gain, without regard for Castiel’s feelings. Dean would never love him.

He can’t go back to that? Not when he’s had a taste.

So what is he supposed to do? Without Dean and Sam he has nowhere. He’s been cast out of the bunker just as he was cast out of heaven. But this time the fall from an even greater height.

Castiel doubts that he’ll end up more than a bloody smear when his feel eventually touch the ground.


	9. Witch Upon A Spell

Adrenalin.

Something that lets you power through life’s hardest moments. Dean’s adrenaline has kept him up and at em’ for the better part of two weeks on his search for Cass. Every time he seemed to get closer, the signs would point that the angel had moved on.

It’s the strangest thing.

Almost like Cass is purposefully evading him. But that makes no sense does it?

“Dean.” Sam says, walking straight up to him. “I’m putting my foot down. You need to stop this frantic looking.”

Dean bristles. “The hell I do.”

“Just for a day.” Sam says. “There’s a case. And if you can’t remember, that’s what we do. Saving people, hunting things, the family business. Not searching for Cass, hunting down every lead we can find, the shady business.”

“Touché.” He mutters.

“So?” Sam asks again. “You in?”

“I’m in.” Dean grumbles.

…

“Damn it Sam!” Dean hisses. “You know I hate witches.”

“I didn’t _know, _Dean.”

Dean tries to wrest his way out of the witches enchantment. She’d cornered him at a bar just the night before, trying to plan a hex. Long story short, Dean got caught… and he left his witch killing bullets in his other pants.

Just then, the door slams, open, breaking the witch’s concentration. Dean is shocked to see a figure immediately shoot her square between the eyes before marching over to them.

“You will be alright.”

Wait.

Sam recognises it about two seconds after Dean does and his mouth starts working sooner.

“Cass?”

His hands freeze and Dean sees his pinched expression in the darkness.

Right. Cass was living his life now, thinking that Dean wanted nothing to do with him. That he hadn’t even gone back to look for him after their blow out.

“Hello Sam.” Cass says brusquely.

Dean winces.

He’s about to say something… an apology or maybe an explanation, when Sam is thrown backwards, his body tumbling to the floor. Out cold.

Cass whorls immediately, shooting at the figure who ducks and flings a silver dust at them before vanishing.

“Damn it.” Dean coughs. “What the hell is this?” he dusts the residue off his jacket.

To his right, Sam stirs, sitting up slowly and pressing a hand to his head. “While you were sleeping over there, some mystery figure peppered us in mystical dust.” Dean snaps.

He huffs and tries to head to the Impala… to get more witch killing bullets in case they come back to finish the job. But then he remembers… Cass…

“How are you?” he says facing his friend.

“I am as I have been; as I always will be.”

Gulping, Dean glances off to the side. That’s ‘Cass’ for go fuck yourself.

It’s irrational, Dean knows, but he feels so angry. That Cass never thought to come back, that Dean probably hadn’t even crossed his mind in the months that elapsed. What comes out though is: “I’m asking because I miss you.”

Everyone in the room pauses, staring at Dean, utterly perplexed.

Cass narrows his eyes. “Dean. Do not fool around with me.”

“I’m not.” He insists. “I just meant that I wish you never left me.” he clamps a hand over his mouth. “I don’t want you to hear this.”

“Dean!” Sam calls, essentially shutting him up. “Have you ever tried on sexy lingerie?”

“What?” Dean blusters, trying to stop the flush from creeping up his neck. “Of course I have.” Sam’s eyes widen.

Dean coughs. “Of course I have.” He repeats.

“You’re trying to lie.” Sam says. “You guys got hit with a truth spell.”

…

The ride back is tense. Dean clamps his jaw shut. Convincing Cass to even make the return trip with them had been nothing short of a terrible ordeal. Sam had done most of the talking, Dean, not wanting to let anything… untoward slip out and screw the whole thing.

Now that they’re all back at the bunker though, it settles down. They can all retire to their respective hide outs. Dean vows to keep an oath of silence until they figure out how to break the spell and Cass doesn’t seem very talkative either.

At dinner, they all stare at the table quietly… well Dean and Cass do. Sam spends most of his time looking between them searchingly.

“I think this is an opportunity.” He booms, all of a sudden.

“An opportunity for me to lose my mind.” Dean mutters.

“Ditto.” Cass agrees.

“Seriously.” Sam says pushing away his plate of green veggies. Now there’s a sight. “You guys always had… trouble communicating. This is your chance. To ask any question you want to. And you _know_ you’re getting an honest answer.”

Right. Turns out that Cass got zapped too. So far, he’s spilled the beans stealing some of Dean’s cassette tapes and wishing that Dean would stop eating all the food in the bunker. Neither were particularly shocking.

“That’s a load of bullshit.” Dean huffs.

Cass squints at him. “Of course _you_ think that it is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demands.

Sam goes back to his dinner. “That’s the spirit guys.”

“Your – the way you treat me. Like I’m some sort of angelic boomerang. I knock out the bad guys and return to my master; Dean.”

“That’s not-” Dean should feel relieved. He _is _ relieved that Cass is back. But he just can’t stop his anger.

“That is why I wish I never came back here.” He hisses. “What we have. Isn’t profound. It’s toxic.”

Sam’s eyes seek his in a silent apology as Cass vacates his seat and marches down the hall. In the opposite direction to the door, at least. He still doesn’t know that happened in the weeks following his friend’s departure. And frankly, he’s too afraid to ask. What if Cass was having the time of his life, solving cases like a pro and Dean just came into his life again and dragged him into the dumps.

Dean though, he remains rooted in place. He doesn’t put it past Cass to try to sneak out while they’re asleep. This way Dean can at least _do _something this time.


	10. Morning Breadth

Dean remains in his spot, sitting there in the darkness in a trance like state. The only thing that brings him back to reality is the soft padding of feet.

Those aren’t Sam’s lumbering steps, as he carries himself out for his morning run. Those are Cass’ footfalls.

He doesn’t bother to turn the light on as he makes his way over to the coffee machine, but he does manage to bump very loudly into the counter. It’s clear he hasn’t seen Dean yet and Dean half wonders if he can make it through the entire process unobserved.

“Your morning breath smells disgusting.” Cass says staring directly at him.

Dean winces, ducking his head. Cass said it, so it must be true.

“Is that why you’re standing so far away?” It’s strange to have Cass in the room and not standing in his personal space.

“Because I can’t stand to be near you.” Cass says venomously.

“Well, at least you told me.” Dean jabs.

Cass glares at him but remains silent otherwise.

“Why?” he blurts. Dean is tired of this. Tired of him leaving.

“Because, Dean, as I told you… I can’t be around you.”

Yeah, this time hurt way more than the first, but Dean is determined to get to the bottom of things.

“Why?” he repeats this time, even he can tell how pathetic the word sounds.

By the way the anger seems to leech from Cass, he can believe it too.

“Because something happened while I was gone Dean.”

Something flashes across Cass’ face then. Longing and sorrow. It hurts Dean to see it.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” Dean asks.

Cass clamps his hand over his mouth then, his eyes going wide in horror as he stares accusingly at Dean. Without a word, he turns on his heel, his hand still covering his mouth and makes a hasty exit.

Dean is about two steps behind him before he stops himself. Why should he chase after Cass when he clearly doesn’t want to talk to him? He’s never considered himself the kind of friend who was overly involved. If Cass doesn’t want to talk to him, then whatever.

Knees creaking, as though in protest of his decision Dean lowers himself into the seat once more. Shaking his head, he stares down at his empty cup, trying to summon the will to get up again. But what’s the point? All this time, he’s been searching for Cass and now that he’s finally found him, Cass wants nothing to do with him.

Sam walks in and immediately frowns at him. “Morning.” He says pleasantly, but has a nose for judgement, and Sam is reeking.

“Spit it out.” Dean snaps.

Sam drops the pretence and perches on the table. “Okay. Why didn’t you talk to Cass?”

“Oh we talked.” Dean says bitterly. “He said he can’t be around me and refused to say why.”

“Well, it’s not over yet. There’s still time.” Sam assures.

Dean shakes his head wryly. He know better than that. There’s no time at all.

“Hey, did you drink my almond milk?” Sam demands, popping up from the fridge. So much for ‘supportive brother,’ huh.

Dean keeps his mouth shut. No way is he risking talking right now.

Except… the words feel like they’re bubbling up in his throat. Trying to force their way out of his throat. Dean clamps his hand over his mouth and flees the room, but not before the ‘yes’ escapes his lips while Sam is still in earshot.

…

“We had sex!” Castiel screams it to the empty room. He slouches against the wall. The empty room in this scenario had almost been Dean. What would he have done then?

He doesn’t even want to see Dean in any case, it’s too traumatic. He’d made it _weeks_ without seeing Dean around every corner. He thought he’d cracked when he saw Dean in that room. Damn it.

All that time away, he stuck to calming things. Like hunting witches or rogue angels. He hadn’t sought out shifters or djinn. When he suspected their presence, he had quickly passed the case onto another hunter. Sam and Dean may have actually done some of those cases unknowingly.

It’s not that he’s not happy to see Dean – that he’s alive and generally ok. But he can’t help but think back to their last interaction. Their fight, after which Dean had abandoned him completely. Maybe if Dean had come to look for him, he would have noticed the imposter right away.

All of this could have been avoided.

Dean would have found the djinn who took him and saved him from that nightmare world.

If only.

Castiel’s never been so lucky.

He half wishes the wall would just swallow him. Then at least, he’d be safe.

He could still be with Sam and Dean in a way that wouldn’t force them to hate him. He’d be in a place that he loves. It could be perfect.

Blinding pain brings him back to reality in the most fitting of ways.

He presses a hand to the source, his nose and grunts as he feels blood escaping.

“Shit.” It’s Dean’s voice. He presses a hand to Castiel’s nose to try to stop the bleeding.

“You okay man?” Dean asks, pulling his blood drenched shirt away and inspecting his nose in a way that makes his skin crawl.

“No.” he answers honestly, because, what else can he do?

“Me either.” Dean says, lowering himself beside Castiel.

Castiel looks at him sceptically. “I didn’t hit you on the nose with a door.”

“No you didn’t.” Dean agrees. “But I realised that asking you a question kind of forces you to answer. That’s not really fair.”

He sighs. “You didn’t know?”

“Well.” Dean scoffs. “Not till Sam asked who drank his friggin’ almond milk.”

A smile graces his lips at that.

“You can ask me something so that we’re even.” Dean suggests.

“What if you don’t want to answer?”

Dean shrugs. “Then I’ll pull a Cass: run out of the room silently.”

If this isn’t an opportunity to find out why Dean didn’t look for him, he doesn’t know what is. Maybe this will finally put an end to some of his suffering.

“Why didn’t you look for me?”


	11. Two Truths And a Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, but I hope you liked it! I have the rest of this mostly planned out so updates should be more frequent *fingers crossed*
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta [shipperofdarkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipperofdarkness/profile) for beta reading this chapter!

If this isn’t an opportunity to find out why Dean didn’t look for him, he doesn’t know what is. Maybe this will finally put an end to some of his suffering.

“Why didn’t you look for me?”

“I did,” Dean admits.

Castiel gives him a disbelieving look and wants to accuse him of lying… but that’s impossible. They’re both under a truth spell. But how could Dean, the best hunter he knows, have looked for him and not found him? Something about that just isn’t right.

“And I found you,” he says and Castiel feels the air between them change. The mood is soured by some unspoken truth. “But it wasn’t you. It was a shifter who posed as you for all the time you were gone.”

A shifter.

He feels dizzy suddenly. But his mouth is filterless, blurting out the first question that comes to mind. “You didn’t recognize it wasn’t me?”

It’s two questions and he knows it, but Dean doesn’t make a fuss, in fact, he looks ready to defend himself.

“It refused to come out of your room. We didn’t have a chance to see how it interacted.” He insists. Dean scrubs a hand down his face. “I found the rotting flesh. It must have gotten your DNA somehow.”

“The bird,” he whispers. “On my way out, I touched a bird.”

Dean stills, looking at him with sympathy.

“But how did it get your DNA?” Castiel wonders aloud.

Dean frowns at him. “What does that mean? Wait, sorry-”

But he feels compelled to answer, spell or not. Dean had looked for him the instant he realized something was amiss. That’s all Castiel had hoped for. Maybe he can tell him now, explain that he was tricked in almost an identical way, only his was a siren, who enchanted him with sex.

His feelings for Dean wouldn’t have to come to light then.

“The same thing happened to me.” He says at last. “I saw you at my door, I thought you came to look for me… I let you in.”

“A shifter.” Dean breathes, his eyes wide.

“A day later, it was a siren.”

The flush that appears on Dean’s face is telling. He obviously knows what happened next.

“You slept with me?” Dean’s voice is breathy.

“I was drawn to it, Dean. It’s not like I–” Castiel rushes to explain.

Holding up a hand, Dean silences him. “I know, I know. Don’t worry.” He smiles. “I just– You have me at a disadvantage now.”

Confused, Castiel tilts his head. “How?”

“You’ve seen my dick.” Dean says easily. “I feel like you should strip.” Dean nudges him playfully. “Just to level the playing field.”

What a prospect. But he knows that Dean is joking. Apparently, his face doesn’t convey it since Dean awkwardly coughs.

Laying a hand on his shoulder, Dean looks at him. For a moment, something flits across Dean’s face and he thinks Dean is about to hug him, but his expression closes off once more and he sighs. Castiel doesn’t know how to feel. On one hand, Dean’s hugs make him feel warm. But he’s scared to try it and find that the monsters ruined even _ that _for him. “I get why you didn’t want to be around me. If– if something like that happened to me… I don’t know how I’d feel about seeing the same face.”

Castiel blinks in shock. He hadn’t expected Dean to understand, much less be okay with it.

“If you want me to keep my distance, I understand.” Though the hunter’s voice is sincere, he can tell that Dean doesn’t really want that.

Neither does Castiel, if he’s being honest. Despite the mind-fracturing experiences he’s had with different versions of ‘Dean,’ he still can’t find it in himself to stay away from his friend.

“No,” he says after a brief pause. “I… I thought staying away would help. That seeing you would remind me of _ him. _ But it doesn’t, Dean… maybe a little at first… but now, I just see you.”

The glint returns to Dean’s eye at that and he gives him a shy smile. “That– that’s good.”

Castiel and Dean remain in the room via a silent agreement. Neither of them wants to face the world, knowing that they have no choice but to tell the truth, even if it causes them agony.

“There’s something I’ve always wondered.” Castiel whispers, being careful not to phrase it as a question.

“Hmm?” Dean hums, indicating for him to continue.

“Let’s pretend I liked the things the siren and shifter did with your body.”

Dean stares at him for a good minute. His pupils dilate, Castiel knows that he recognizes his ‘question posed as a non-question.’

In all honesty, he’s sized up Dean long before bringing this up. He’s fairly certain that Dean will just placate him some more, but this is something he needs to hear in person, after beating himself up about it for so long.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Castiel sags in relief. If Dean’s saying it, then it must be true.

He lets himself savor the moment before asking his next ‘non-question.’

“I hope you realize that…” Castiel steels himself. This is his one chance to be honest with Dean and get his honest opinion in return. “… when I let the shifter cajole me into bed, I sincerely thought it was you.”

Inaudibly, Dean swallows. The new panic in his eyes tells him that the hunter hadn’t considered that. When Dean wants to stall or collect his thoughts, he usually licks his lips. Just like he is now.

“So what?” He says shakily. “Everyone has… fantasies.”

His mouth almost tumbles open at the implication. The burning desire to scream the question: ‘Did you have fantasies about me?’ is overwhelming.

The answer is clear on Dean’s burning face. But, Castiel reminds himself. Dean is a sexual being, this might be nothing out of the ordinary for him.

“I’m going to assume this doesn’t change the way you see me,” he prods gently.

“I don’t care.” Dean’s voice is vehement. “You’re Cass and Cass gets a free pass.”


	12. Two-Faced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely beta [shipperofdarkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipperofdarkness/profile)!

Dean has fantasies about him. The information makes him lightheaded. He desperately wants to know what they’re about - how long Dean has had them. However, Dean doesn’t seem phased by his admission. Humans have ‘wet dreams’ and fantasies all the time; they don’t necessarily mean anything. Asking would show his hand. Asking would be like pinning a neon, flashing ‘Cass is in love with you’ sign over Dean’s bed.

But Castiel doesn’t know what to do. Dean is looking at him so sweetly; it’s just like the shifter had looked at him before he-

His face must betray him because Dean’s expression turns sour and he quickly looks away.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, ducking his head.

“It’s fine,” Castiel says, his voice cracking embarrassingly. If he hadn’t caught himself, he might have pressed his lips to Dean’s on pure instinct.

Dean gives him a crooked smile. “It’s okay.” The words are whispered, barely audible from behind Dean’s jacket.

“There was a djinn too,” Cass says, wanting to distract them both from his almost slip-up. “Who kept me locked in a dream world. I– I still don’t know when that happened. If it was from the start, or if it was after the shifter and the siren.”

Fright flashes over Dean’s features. “So you’re tellin’ me that you potentially dealt with a shifter, a siren, a djinn… and yesterday, a witch?”

Castiel nods.

“Doesn’t that seem… strange? Them working together like that?”

“I– I have to admit, Dean,” Castiel begins. “It did cross my mind… but I had bigger problems at the time.”

Whatever Dean says next is muffled by his jacket.

“What?” He leans closer.

“Just– I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Dean whispers. “I’m sorry they used my face to trick you.”

What they had taken from him was indescribable. They had taken the novelty of Dean’s touch away from him, tainted the pleasure of finally being with who he desired. Yet, despite that, he finds himself drawn to Dean, like a moth drawn to a flame. The flame typically ends up destroying the moth - Castiel hopes that won’t be the case.

“They’re all working together.” Dean continues, his head still ducked. “That’s not normal. Monsters don’t form this kind of alliance. Not on their own. Not with so many different species.”

Dean’s brows furrow as he considers–

“Someone’s controlling them.” Dean’s eyes go wide, flickering to Cass in horror. “Someone _wanted_ us to be apart. But why? It– it doesn’t make any sense.”

Castiel pushes himself to his feet, crinkling his nose, which causes a bout of pain. “Ugh.” He groans, reaching up to touch it. No doubt, it’s red and blotchy now. He spares a half-hearted glare at the door.

“We should–”

The rest of Dean’s sentence is swallowed up by his jacket.

With a frown, Castiel reaches down to tug at the thick material. “What are yo–”

Realization strikes him then. Dean is hiding his face behind his jacket, to make Castiel feel more comfortable. He snatches his hand back and takes a breath. Of all the emotions coursing through his veins, sorrow is most prominent. Of course, Dean would feel responsible for some monster wearing his face, for ‘not saving’ Castiel. In typical Winchester fashion, he’d drawn into himself and tried to fix things. It’s appreciated but unnecessary.

“Dean, you don’t have to hide.” He says, watching as Dean’s fingers tighten their grip on his jacket.

“Thought it’d be easier.” He mumbles. The ‘for you’ is implied.

Castiel struggles to find a way to reassure him; however, Dean just shakes his head. “I saw the way you looked at me just now.” His voice is tinged with sadness. “I mean– I know it’s hard for you. No matter what you say, it _must_ be hard for you.”

Licking his lips, Cass eyes the floor. It’s not that _Dean_ is the problem. It’s just sometimes he sees him, getting closer, looking at him in that _way_, just like the siren had before he kissed him. The problem is he finds himself drawing closer, moving in for a kiss because that’s what he had gotten accustomed to, what he still craved.

“I’m okay, Dean.” He says at last.

For a long moment, Dean just looks at him, his face still mostly obscured by his jacket. Then, he releases the jacket and gets to his feet, his face now serious.

“We need to talk to Sam.” He says matter of fact. “Maybe he’ll have some ideas on what’s bringing these monsters together.”

Dean looks at him and Castiel manages a crisp nod.

When Dean walks out, Castiel is still reeling from his sudden mood change. They were having a ‘heart to heart’. Why would Dean suddenly want to talk to Sam about this? Maybe after months away, he’s just fallen out of sync with the brothers.

Or maybe it was because of the ever-dreaded ‘chick-flick moment’. He knows that Dean doesn’t like them. Or at least he says he doesn’t. Maybe he’s just uncomfortable. Or perhaps he thinks that Castiel will be more comfortable with him if Sam is also present – which makes no sense and isn’t true, but there’s no way to know what really goes on in Dean Winchester’s mind, not even asking him would yield anything.

Castiel makes his way out of the room. He finds Sam exactly where he expects - in the library with a book in his lap.

“Did Dean talk to you?”

“Talk is an overstatement,” Sam scoffs. “He kinda babbled a bit. I missed most of it but I got that it was about you.”

“Where is Dean?” Castiel wonders, looking around. He couldn’t have followed him by more than a minute yet the hunter’s vanished.

“I think he went out.”

Castiel’s eyes bulge out. “And you let him? Sam, he’s affected by a truth spell! He-”

“Relax,” Sam says, his eyes lighting up with mirth. “Out as in outside, to wash Baby. She got a little dirty while we were hightailing it away from witch-topia.”

“Oh.” He says, deflated.

“I’m doing some research on truth spells, trying to figure out which one you guys got hit with. Maybe we can find a way to reverse it then.”

“I can help,” he offers.

“Sure,” Sam says amiably, gesturing to the seat across from him. “And maybe you can translate what Dean was trying to tell me earlier?”

Castiel shakes his head. He figured out long ago; Dean will talk when he’s ready. Maybe he’ll be angry, maybe he’ll be hurt, but at the end of it, they’ll be good again. At least he hopes...


End file.
